Ivan Sokac


Simple lines of star constellations

Tire my night vision

While the sounds of lyre

still disrupt the silence

of the sleepy dark valleys.

Under the tree top there is outspread

memory of the clumps of the furious

and of the beaten paths

that ingrown in weeds.

Sprinkled with dust

collected from dried out wells

Hides the shadow of

Polished silent sky.


All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Ivan Sokac.
Published on e-Stories.org on 09/26/2019.


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